


So Let the Sun Come Streaming In ('Cause You'll Reach Up and You'll Rise Again)

by trashmouthtrash



Series: You Will Be Found, Jughead Jones. [3]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Clifford Blossom is insane, He's a sarcastic little shit, Hospitals, Hurt Jughead Jones, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I stole that one from Teen Wolf, Jughead whump, Kidnapping, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Riddles, Some A+ Mystery Solving, Torture, also BUGHEAD, selective mutism, tags will update as I go, why am I so mean to him?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-01-27 19:56:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12589396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashmouthtrash/pseuds/trashmouthtrash
Summary: At 4 PM, Archie receives a Skype call for an unknown number."We're going to play a little game. You have seven days to find Mr. Jones."Or: My "what-if" on how FP confessed to protect Jughead. When FP finally reveals that he isn't the killer, Clifford kidnaps and tortures Jughead, forcing Archie and the gang to play a series of twisted games in order to find him.See also: Shameless Jughead whump. Trigger Warning, not sure how far I'll take this story, and tags will update as I go. I own nothing but the plot. Love you guys x





	1. Just Stop Your Crying (It's a Sign of the Times)

“Has anyone seen Jughead?” Archie asked, chewing his sandwich. The gang was enjoying lunch in their usual spot, and he felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of guilt for not realizing his friend’s absence sooner. 

“Nope. I figured he was sick or something. Haven’t seen him all day,” Kevin replied, unconcerned. As the others added their own vague affirmations, Archie grew increasingly worried. He hadn’t seen his friend since the night before, thinking he had spent the night at Betty’s or maybe FP’s. He chided himself for being so thoughtless, and subsequently consoled himself by planning to look for Jughead after school. It would ease his conscience and ensure Jughead’s wellbeing – problem solved.

It was in this manner that he continued his day, with a lingering sense of trepidation that he repeatedly pushed to the back of his mind, even as he headed home to check on his roommate.

XXX

Perhaps he would be more concerned if he knew that the friend in question hadn’t made it to a home the evening prior. Jughead had been walking out of Pop’s, stifling a yawn, after finally admitting to himself that he was just too tired to write any more that night. It was, after all, just a few minutes before midnight. So he rubbed his eyes and grabbed his laptop, waving to Pop on the way out.

He tiredly began his trek to Archie’s house, vaguely noticing how serene the night was. A comfortably cool breeze, a picture-worthy array of stars, and no one around to spoil the view. It was perfect, really. Too perfect. Jughead sighed. -You just have to find the bad in everything. Why can’t you just enjoy it?- He silently chided himself. Maybe, if he hadn’t been so caught up in his internal monologue, he would have noticed the figure that had been silently trailing him from the restaurant. He may have even had enough time to run or call for help before the figure grew close enough to pistol whip him into unconsciousness. Then again, maybe he would have ended up tied up in the trunk of a car anyway. 

XXX

When Archie reached his house, he was greeted by emptiness. He looked in each room, yelling Jughead’s name for good measure, only to find himself alone. “Where could he be?” he muttered, before quickly typing out a group text of “Anybody with Jughead? He’s not home, haven’t seen him all day.” He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he let it out in a frustrated sigh as his friends, one after the other, replied with various accounts of “no”. He ran a hand through his hair, quickly becoming agitated. 

As he grabbed his keys and headed out, he tried to convince himself he was overreacting. Jughead had probably gone to his dad’s trailer to rest – just because he wasn’t at Archie’s (or Betty’s, or Veronica’s…) didn’t mean he had disappeared. Right? 

It was with that fragile hope that Archie headed to FP’s trailer park, Betty texting to say she would meet him there. 

XXX

As Archie pulled out of his driveway, Jughead’s stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten since the night before, as his stomach had been reminding him all day. Earlier, he had awoken to a sharp pain in his head and a shock to his senses. He had no idea where he was; the white-walled room serving as his apparent prison was completely unfamiliar, bare except for the chair he was tied to. That, and a closed door in the corner - one that Jughead doubted he could simply waltz out of, even if his hands and feet weren’t constricted. So he had been left to his thoughts, with no other option than to wait and see if his captor would make an appearance.

Just as he was beginning to wonder if he had been abandoned to starve, Jughead heard the jingle of keys outside the door. Startled from the seemingly endless silence, Jughead’s head snapped up as the door opened.

Clifford Blossom entered the room.

“Why am I here?” Jughead demanded, wasting no time. Clifford merely returned with a measured smirk. He was in control, and he knew it. Jughead shivered.

“Why are you here? You want me to lay it all out for you, the villain explaining his master plan? Fine. In simple terms, its really your dad’s fault.” It was then that Jughead got a clear view of Clifford’s eyes. There was something off about them, almost manic. Only then did Jughead feel a true spike of panic. This guy was insane – who knows what he would do. “You see, a while back your father and I made a deal. He would take the blame for Jason’s murder, and I would leave you alone.”

Jughead gasped, the pieces clicking into place. “You killed Jason? And my dad covered for you to protect me? No way,” He muttered the last part, simultaneously shocked and amazed. Whatever comfort he felt knowing that his father really did care was quickly extinguished by Clifford’s next words.

“Really, you condemned yourself. You made him confess, so now we’re going to play a little game. It’s up to your friends if Riverdale has another Jason case.”

XXX

Betty knocked on the trailer door, the sound cutting through the otherwise silent park. They waited a few moments before knocking again, Archie quickly growing exasperated. He grabbed the spare key – hidden conveniently beneath the doormat – and tried to jam it into the keyhole. His hands were shaking too much and he groaned, frustrated. Betty grasped his hands in hers and met his eyes, a look conveying, “I get it, but you still need to calm down”. She calmly unlocked the door, leaving Archie baffled. How could someone stay so calm in the face of possible disaster? Archie once again told himself he was probably being ridiculous, but gave up on his forced optomism when they found the trailer empty. 

“What now?” Betty asked, eyes desperate. Archie was no longer the only one concerned. “Where else could he be, I mean, we checked everywhere, and…”

“Hey,” Archie grabbed her hands to steady her in a sudden reversal of roles, “we’ll find him, okay? We’re not giving up on him.” She nodded, exhaling shakily.

“Seriously though, what do we do now? I don’t know where else to – “

She was cut off as Archie’s phone blared with an unknown number. He grabbed it, unreasonably hopeful.

“Put me on speaker. Now.”  
“Who is this?”  
“Put me on speaker or Jughead gets it.”

Betty watched as Archie paled dramatically, lowering the phone and putting it on speaker almost mechanically. 

“Okay. You’re on speaker. Just d-don’t hurt him.” Archie was shaking now, and Betty was growing desperate in her confusion. 

“Good. Now, we’re going to play a game, but we need the whole gang together. I want Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Kevin in the Jones’ trailer in twenty minutes. No one else. Once everyone is there, you will call this number back. I will email you a link, and the games begin,” The voice paused, and Betty and Archie looked at each other. Both had wide eyes and trembling hands – Betty with fists. “Oh, and one more thing: call the cops, or tell anyone for that matter, and your friend is dead.”

XXX

“Oh my god, what are we going to do? We can’t listen to some, some psychopath! I mean, what if-“ Archie cut Betty off, exasperated, with eyes blown equally wide.

“What other choice do we have? We can’t let him hurt Jughead.” Betty sighed, knowing he was right but not at all okay with it. She was breathing too fast, her nails having already dug bloody crescents into her palms. Suddenly, she gasped.

“We only have twenty minutes! We have to get everyone here, what if he-“ This time, she cut herself off with a sob, desperately grasping for her phone. Archie, too, forced himself out of his frozen stupor and grabbed his own. They called Veronica and Kevin, vague in detail but painfully clear in their panic-fueled urgency. The two arrived within minutes, and Betty led them inside with puffy eyes. She didn’t bother trying to clean her hands of the blood now running down them,

“Betty, your hands – “ Veronica began.

“Not now. Jughead’s been kidnapped,” Veronica and Kevin gasped, and Archie winced. Betty related the story of the mysterious phone call, and Archie dialed the mysterious number once again. Everyone held their breath as the phone rang, the ominous sound gnawing away at any remaining nerves they group had been clinging to. 

“Well done, Mr. Andrews. Do you have your laptop with you?” Archie silently thanked god that he had brought his schoolbag. 

“Yeah, I do.”

“Turn it on, log into your Skype account.”

Archie did as told, hardly lingering on the fact that somehow this person knew he had a Skype account. “Done.”

XXX

Jughead looked up as Clifford entered once again, this time grabbing a laptop and a small table out of the closet. He was trying to think of some sarcastic comment when he heard the ringtone of an incoming Skype call. He froze, caught by surprise, as Clifford accepted the call. The laptop was turned away from him, so he was left with the uneasy feeling of unawareness as Clifford began to speak.

“Well done, Mr. Andrews. I should hope that this compliant behavior continues – we wouldn’t want to cause your friend any extra pain, would we?” Jughead’s brow furrowed. Mr. Andrews? What kind of sick game was this guy playing?

“Where’s Jughead?” Hearing the voice of his favorite redhead brought a small smile to Jughead’s face. So desperate was he to be with his friends that he found comfort in the sound of a voice. The euphoria was fleeting as the conversation continued and Clifford finally turned the laptop.

XXX

“Jughead!” The gang shouted in unison as their friend came into view. He was tied to a chair, hands and feet bound, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. The group breathed a sigh of partial relief. The group followed with varying versions of: “Are you okay?”

Jughead gave a small chuckle. “Yeah, I’m good. Except I’m still trying to convince this guy to make a run to Pop’s for me.”

Archie could’ve cried at the sound of his friend’s humor, a sign that he hadn’t given up. A sign that he trusted them to get him out. And Archie swore to live up to that trust. The smile was wiped off his face when he saw his friend’s face jerk to the side from a brutal punch. Everyone in the trailer gasped. Jughead made no sound, simply lifting his head once again. 

XXX

“I’d watch your mouth, Mr. Jones. Remember who’s tied to the chair,” Clifford sneered. Jughead’s stomach dropped; Clifford was enjoying this. And it was only his first day – what else was to come?

“Before we begin, I’ll go over the rules.” Clifford turned to Archie. “Your little detective gang has seven days to find your friend here. Each day at four p.m. you will gather in the trailer and I will call you, all in the same manner as today. Do not be late. Then, you will complete a certain challenge. Jughead’s wellbeing depends on how well you do in each challenge.”

Here, Jughead interrupted him, smirking. “Hold up. Challenges? Don’t tell me my kidnapper is some scrabble fanatic. No wa-“

Everyone flinched as the sound of a slap silenced him. 

“You’re much too cocky for someone about to be tortured,” Clifford sneered. Jughead’s usual smirk returned, proud of causing the frustration on his captor’s face, and it brought some small sense of relief for the gang. Then Jughead’s eyes widened and he turned white as a sheet, staring at something offscreen. Archie frowned, confused, before hearing the sound of tape ripping. 

Jughead leaned back in his chair, almost tipping it, as Clifford advanced with the tape. He shook his head frantically, whimpering desperate objections. That was the first time Archie saw true fear in his friend’s eyes – Jughead was terrified, and Archie knew why. Suffocation was quite possible Jughead’s biggest fear, one that had originated in his early years, when FP had grabbed him by the neck in a drunken rage. His throat was bruised for days afterward, and he had a strong fear since. The tape had hit too close to home.

Of course, Clifford wasn’t exactly a courteous host, and ignored the boy’s pleas. He slapped the tape over Jughead’s mouth with one arm, pinning the squirming boy with the other. “What? No more snarky retorts? That should teach you to shut your mouth.” Jughead held his gaze, meeting the threatening smirk with a glare of his own. 

By now, Archie was shaking with rage. “Who the hell do you think you are? You can’t just kidnap somebody, then –“ 

Then he stopped, the fight suddenly gone, replaced with paralyzing terror. Clifford was holding a knife to Jughead’s throat.

“Now that that’s done with, there are three ways this can end. You finish all the challenges, or find your friend, in the next seven days and Jughead walks away. If not, on the seventh day I will kill him,” Jughead flinched, “Publicly. And painfully. So I’d suggest you find him by day seven. If he’s still alive by then.”

Everyone was frozen. Jughead himself seemed a statue, his standard glare covering his terror. Then Kevin, somehow keeping his head, spoke.

“What kind of challenges?” Archie had to admit it was a good question. They needed to know what they were up against.

“Ah, the sheriff’s son, of course. Each day will hold something new. I will, since you’re so curious, hold a demonstration now. A trial run, per se.” Kevin’s face fell, engulfed in guilt. “I’ll keep it simple; I'm a busy man, after all. Let’s begin.”

XXX

“I will give you a riddle. You have five minutes to think, then three guesses. The riddle is: everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it? You have two minutes.”

XXX

The group spent the first thirty seconds staring at one another, each lost in thought as they desperately grasped for an answer. Finally, Betty grew panicked.

“Anybody? Guys, we’re running out of time. Everyone has it, but no one can lose it? God, I have no idea.” She sighed. One could almost see the wheels turning in her head, powered completely by fear. Veronica was muttering the riddle to herself, over and over, lost in thought as well.

“What about life?” Archie spoke up. “Everyone has it, but… Crap. I’m such an idiot.” Betty put a hand on his back, but said nothing. The group lapsed back into silence.

“What about self? Everyone has a sense of self, and you can’t lose that, right?” It was the best guess they had, and when the chilling voice of Jughead’s captor announced time was up, it was the best they could do. The figure appeared on the screen, this time with a sledgehammer in hand. Archie wanted to throw up.

“Do you have a guess?” 

Veronica’s voice was small, timid. So unlike her it was almost scary. “Self. Everyone has it, no one can lose it.” Everyone held his or her breath, praying to anyone who would listen.

“Incorrect.” And with that he slammed the sledgehammer down on Jughead’s ankle. Jughead screamed, a muffled, pain-filled sound that broke Betty’s heart. His back was arched in a desperate, fruitless escape attempt. “You have two more guesses.”

“Are you insane? We’re not gonna sit here while you hurt him.” Her voice cracked, a restrained sob forcing itself free. Tears streamed down her face, mirroring those on Jughead’s own.

“What choice do we have?” Veronica breathed. “If we refuse to continue he might hurt him worse, or…” Wide eyes met, and the gang turned back to the screen, hearing their friend’s pained moans.

“Ronnie’s right. We h-have to keep going. For Juggie,” Betty took a deep breath, “What’s our next guess?” 

XXX

“What about… I don’t know. Nevermind,” Betty spoke quickly, her words choppy with panicked, uneven breaths. The sight of Jughead writhing in pain was grueling, so incredibly unsettling that Betty was at a loss for words. Veronica was frozen, staring into space. Betty watched as a tear fell from pained eyes.

“I-I did that to him. That was my fault, I guessed wrong, and he –“ Her words increased in speed as she spoke, almost unintelligible. The guilt in her tone was anything but difficult to decipher.

Betty took Veronica’s face in her hands. She knew all too well how guilt could affect someone. “Ronnie, this is not your fault. It’s not any of our faults. Jughead’s kidnapper is entirely to blame – just him. None of us blame you, and god knows Jughead doesn't either. Okay?” Veronica met Betty’s eyes, latching on to their reassurances. 

“Okay.”

Kevin interrupted, though not rudely. “Guys, we’re running out of time. Anybody have another guess?” 

This time, Archie spoke up. “Everybody has it and nobody can lose it… Maybe your mind? Would that work, since the whole ‘losing your mind’ thing is just a saying.” Once again, any possible objections were cut off by the impending deadline.

“Is the answer your mind?” Archie crossed his fingers. The nervous silence was deafening.  
“Wrong again.” Everyone held their breath, torn between not wanting to look and not wanting to look away. The sledgehammer struck again, and Jughead howled in anguish. Fear was plain on his face, something usually so carefully masked. Archie had never seen Jughead in so much pain. He felt an overwhelming wave of guilt. “You have one guess remaining. Choose wisely, if you value your friend’s ability to walk.”

XXX

Betty shuddered, no longer bothering to even attempt to stop her tears. She knew she would never forget the agonized look on Jughead’s face. It made her sick to think of what could happen to him if they didn’t find him quickly.

“We have to get it this time, guys. I have a feeling things are going to be a lot worse for Jughead if we don’t,” Veronica’s usually cool composure had been completely forgotten, replaced by a look of stress and fear. Everyone nodded in agreement, simultaneously glancing at Jughead. He was breathing heavily through his nose, trying desperately to contain the pained moans threatening to escape. He wouldn’t last much longer.

Suddenly, Kevin gasped. “I got it. It’s a shadow. Everyone has it, no one can lose it.” Betty frowned, mulling it over. Could this finally be it?

“What about in the dark? You lose your shadow then,” she questioned, almost fearing the answer. They needed this answer to be correct.

“Technically it’s still there, you just can’t see it. I… I think it’s our best bet,” Kevin replied. The rest of the group nodded slowly, hesitant to commit. They had gone all in on the first two guesses, and it had ended with Jughead writhing in pain with a rapidly swelling ankle. That made it all the more difficult to continue the “game,” but that was the irony of it all – quitting could make it that much worse for their friend. Betty took a deep breath.

“We have our answer. It’s a shadow. Everyone has a shadow, and no one can lose his or her shadow,” she tried vainly to keep her voice from wobbling. Suddenly the air was too thick and it was all she could do to keep upright as the silence dragged on. 

“Correct. Well done. I must admit, I was beginning to wonder how you had managed to get so far in Jason’s murder mystery when you can’t solve a simple riddle,” He spit the words, enjoying having the utmost control. Jughead wanted so badly to retort with some sarcastic comment, but refrained due to pain and oh, I don’t know, the piece of tape over his mouth. 

“Alright. The time starts now: You have seven days. See you tomorrow,” the man said it cheerily, as if looking forward to a lunch date. Clifford socked Jughead in the face, knocking him out. The gang’s collective sounds of protest were half-lived as the phone call was disconnected. As for Jughead, unconsciousness was bliss.


	2. Welcome to the Final Show (Hope You're Wearing Your Best Clothes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first "game."  
> Or: A tale of knives, Tic-Tac-Toe, and "unconventional" game boards.
> 
> Chapter title from Sign of the Times by Harry Styles  
> I own nothing but the plot. Unbeta'd.

For Jughead, waking up was like being slapped in the face. While being hit by a bus. And pushed off a cliff.

His leg was absolutely pulsing with pain. A brief, nauseating twitch revealed that he most likely had a colorful array of bruises. Fan-freaking-tastic. It all looked a little too much like the hobbling scene in ‘Misery’ for Jughead’s taste.

He supposed he should be thankful Clifford hadn’t read Stephen King’s novel of the same name; after all, a painfully bruised ankle was better than no ankle at all.

Jughead sighed. He wished he had a clock, or a window. He was fairly sure asking Clifford would only result in another bruise. Besides, it’s not like his “host” was there for the asking.

In fact, Jughead hadn’t seen Clifford since the man had bashed his ankles Annie Wilkes-style. He hadn’t returned to continue his “games,” or give Jughead any food or water. Which, by the way, was sounding really fantastic at the moment. The burger-loving teen wasn’t sure he’d ever felt so hungry in his life.

On that note, Jughead was also becoming increasingly aware of another pressing matter; he had to pee, badly. After shifting and waiting for he-didn’t-know-how-long-‘cause-he-didn’t-have-a-freaking-clock, Jughead could take it no longer. Grimacing and crossing his fingers, he called, “Hey! I need to go to the bathroom!”

Jughead repeated the call several times before finally receiving a response. Clifford stormed in the room, anger emanating from his stance. “What the hell are you yelling about?”

If circumstances were different, Jughead would’ve laughed at the expression on Clifford’s face. “I need to pee.”

This time, it was Clifford who was smirking. “Then go.”

Fuck.

No amount of yelling and, dare he admit it, begging would stop the redhead from turning and locking the door behind him. Jughead swore colorfully. This guy was playing games with him, and enjoying it.

He counted to four hundred before he gave up. As his legs grew warm and wet, Jughead tried to think about anything but the fact that he was pissing himself like a little kid. Thankfully, no one was there to see the dark patch on his jeans or the bright red color on his cheeks. 

XXX

As he lay in bed, Archie Andrews did his best to avoid thinking about the fact that his best friend had been kidnapped and was still missing. He also tried not to think about how Jughead was in the hands of some psychopath who’d smashed his ankle with a sledgehammer. Archie definitely tried not to think about how Jughead could be dead within the week and it would be entirely his fault.

Archie was failing miserably.

The next morning, going to school was a nightmare. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t concentrate on anything besides the fact that his friend was in danger and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Lunchtime brought some relief, especially since Archie hadn’t spoken with his friends since the jarring events of the previous night. Everyone had simply gone home, too shocked to do otherwise, and pretended to sleep.

Taking a seat next to Veronica, Archie could tell his friends were just as exhausted as he. Betty looked absolutely devastated, and rightly so; her boyfriend was being held captive by some deranged kidnapper. 

“Guys… did anyone see his face? I… wasn’t focusing on that.” Betty spoke quietly. 

Kevin nodded. “I think it was Clifford Blossom.”

Archie was shaking with rage at just the mere mention of his name. “Why are we sitting here, then? We should go to Thornhill, confront him.” He was preparing to walk away when he felt Veronica grip his hand.

“We could, but he wouldn’t let us in. We’d need a warrant or something from the police,”

“And we can’t tell them.” Betty finished. 

Nodding, Veronica added, “Besides, we’re not completely sure it was him. And, if it is, he may not even be at Thornhill.”

“I hate to say it, but we might just have to wait and see what he does tonight. We can confirm if it’s him, see if we can figure out anything else, and go from there.”

Archie wanted to protest, but he just nodded begrudgingly, knowing Kevin was right. Betty met his stressed gaze.

“I know. Unfortunately, there’s not much else we can do. We’ll just have to trust that Juggie can make it through whatever happens tonight.”

XXX

Being alone for long stretches of time gave Jughead the perfect opportunity to properly terrify himself with ideas about what Clifford would do to him. Jughead didn’t scare easily, but his captor hadn’t exactly painted a warm picture when he’d described what he’d do to Jughead. 

Plus, “games” left a lot to Jughead’s imagination. Would it be tests, or puzzles? Would the games be psychological or physical?

Jughead also thought about his friends. This whole thing was probably stressing them out a ton. Jughead wasn’t some self-centered brat, but his friends could be professional worriers. 

If he was being completely honest, Jughead just really hoped they would find him soon. Not only was Clifford Blossom exceedingly similar to the antagonist of a Stephen King novel, but Jughead also missed his friends more than he cared to admit. Especially Betty. In the girlfriend department, Jughead was the luckiest guy in the world.

Which, of course, made the whole experience even freaking better. He didn’t need the tearstains on his face or the itchiness in his jeans to remind him that he was facing unavoidable humiliation. Not that Betty would care, per se, but… Jughead was a private person. It was out of character for him to open up about his feelings, much less scream and cry in front of his friends.

Yet, when Clifford finally entered the room, this time with a knife in hand, Jughead was fairly certain he’d be doing it all over again.

XXX

Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Kevin met at the trailer park at 3:45. Archie unlocked the door and opened his laptop with shaking hands. Betty was pacing, her fists at her sides. 

“Okay, so focus on what he looks like, says, and does. We need to know for sure who we’re dealing with.” Betty, Kevin, and Veronica nodded at Archie’s words.

Tensely, Veronica added, “We should also look at the room. Any small details could give us clues about where he is.”

A Skype call came in at four o’clock on the dot.

XXX

“Hello,” Clifford greeted almost cheerily. Betty shivered. The screen revealed Jughead, still tied to the chair and looking even more exhausted than usual. He offered the group a tired smile before Clifford turned the camera. 

“Excuse me, for a moment. I need to finish getting Mr. Jones here ready for our game.”

Betty shivered again. The gang huddled together; conversing quietly while Clifford was doing whatever it was he had to do off-screen.

“That’s definitely Clifford Blossom,” Kevin muttered. “Red hair, actual psychopath… It’s gotta be him.” Everyone nodded. They could hear sounds of a struggle between Jughead and Clifford; from what it sounded like, however, their friend was not winning the battle.

Suddenly, Clifford jarred the camera back into position. Betty gasped at what was on the screen. Jughead was face down on a table, shirtless and bound by the wrists and around his legs. His back was completely bare.

When Clifford walked back into the shot with a knife in his hands, Betty had the sickening feeling that Jughead’s back wouldn’t stay that way for long.

“Any of you played Tic-Tac-Toe before?”

XXX

Archie was pretty sure he’d never be able to get the sound of Jughead’s screams out of his mind. He had to give his friend some credit, though; Jughead had only genuinely cried out once as Clifford carved a Tic-Tac-Toe “board” on his back.

“If you win, you get to ask a question. If I win, we play again. Tie means we do nothing,”

The cuts were oozing crimson blood. Jughead was groaning, twisting in his restraints. Betty was white as a sheet, looking like she was struggling to keep her lunch where it belonged. Veronica, Kevin, and Archie looked much the same.

Clifford, however, was grinning slightly. It was like he got high off of causing pain – an analogy Jughead surely would’ve scoffed at if he weren’t currently tied to a table and bleeding. 

“X’s or O’s?” Clifford asked. Archie scoffed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

Veronica grabbed his hand, but it was too late. “Fine. I’ll go,” Clifford sneered. He dragged the blade deep into Jughead’s pale skin, forming a bloody “X” in the middle square. Betty’s heart hurt as she watched Jughead squirm in pain.

“Your move.”

Before anyone could respond, Betty sharply replied, “Top left corner.”

Nodding, Clifford cut into Jughead’s back once again. Jughead whined, a high keening sound, but otherwise stayed quiet. Clifford then cut an “X” into the bottom left square.

“I wish he’d pass out.” Archie heard Veronica whisper softly. He couldn’t help but agree; unconsciousness seemed better than the agony Jughead was enduring.

“Top right corner,” Betty said, blocking Clifford’s diagonal streak. The game seemed ridiculously long for Tic-Tac-Toe, especially with Jughead’s barely contained grunts of pain. Clifford took top middle; Betty took lower middle. The game ended in a tie.

“I suppose that’s that, then.” Clifford said conversationally, clearing away the knives like one might clear dishes from the dinner table. Jughead was panting, blood dripping down his back.

Everybody in the trailer felt sick watching the madman hurt Jughead. The cuts would most likely leave scars, and were obviously painful. They watched with bated breaths as Clifford partially untied Jughead, lifted his limp, shaking form, and dumped him unceremoniously back into the chair. Jughead hissed as his back made contact with the chair back. Betty winced.

“See you tomorrow!” Clifford waved – he actually fucking waved – before the screen turned black.

Kevin promptly vomited into the waste bin.

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovely readers!  
> First, I'm sorry this took me so long! I kept saying I would update, then delaying. I went through a period of no motivation and busy schedules, so my apologies for not updating until now.  
> Second, I want to thank you guys. The support I've gotten on this work has far surpassed all expectations. In the last chapter, I mentioned that I've been struggling with mental health issues, and all the comments have been nothing but supportive! Seriously, you guys are the absolute best.  
> Third, I hope you like this chapter! It's a bit short, but I've got the story planned out now, and the next one should be longer. This one was just a kick-off, per se, for the style/agenda of future chapters. Not sure when I'll update next, but I will. Comments and Kudos make my day; I'd love to get some feedback!  
> Lots of love to all of you! Sincerely, Me.


	3. You Can't Bribe the Door on Your Way to the Sky; You Look Pretty Good Down Here. (But You Ain't Really Good)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead, like the little shit he is, tries to escape. And there are consequences.  
> Featuring Jughead's sarcasm and Clifford's sadism.  
> TW for self harm and, you know, torture.

In. Out. Repeat.  
In. Out. Repeat.

His skin was slick with sweat; he could feel it sliding down his face, heavy drops mingling with the tears on his cheeks. Jughead ignored it, all of it, focusing only on breathing.

In. Out. Repeat.  
In. Out. Repeat.

It was a long while before Jughead got his breathing back to a rate that’s somewhere near acceptable. Too long; by then, Clifford had probably realized he had escaped.

Well, tried to escape. He wasn’t out yet. 

After Clifford’s last “visit,” Jughead had passed out. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, or how much longer he had until Clifford came back. Those uncertainties held no weight against the shocking tendrils of fear that had taken root in his mind or the burning heaviness of pain weighing down his body.

There were a lot of things Jughead didn’t know; the fact that he needed to escape was not one of them.

Of course, that’s easier said than done when you’re tied to a chair and heavily injured. Luckily for him, his slumped, unconscious position had loosened the ropes enough so he could squeeze out.

Again - easier said than done.

Jughead’s back burned with every slight movement. It had rubbed against the chair when he was trying to escape, and he’d bitten clean through his lip in an attempt to contain his agonized scream. But he’d done it, and now he was sitting on the floor fighting to stay conscious. 

In. Out. Repeat.  
In. Out. Repeat.

He had to get out. His back was burning and his foot was pulsing and his heart was racing and he. couldn’t. take. it. 

Jughead ignored the way the room was tilting and stood shakily. He gingerly put weight on his injured ankle and swore colorfully. His vision blacked out for a second but, miraculously, Jughead remained standing.

Now he just had to get out the door.

XXX

When Betty’s phone rang, she flinched unreasonably hard; especially when the caller was Archie. “Hey, Arch.”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Nope.”

“Yeah.” Archie paused. “What are we going to do, Betty? We can’t just keep… I mean, you saw how Jughead was. He’s not gonna make it ‘til the end of the week at this rate.”

Betty sat down heavily, swallowing the sickly feeling in her stomach. Archie cursed softly.

“Shit, Betty, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I just, with this whole thing… I’m lost. Jughead needs our help and I have no idea now. And I know we’re not as close as we used to be, after everything, but he’s still my best friend, and…”

“And you don’t want to lose him.”

“Yeah.” Betty fell silent. She was so lost, so helpless, and she could only imagine what Jughead must be feeling. His screams had echoed in her mind and kept her from sleeping the night before; it must have been a million times worse being the one screaming. “You know what he told me?”

Archie’s voice was soft. “Yeah?”

“After Jellybean and his mom left, he blamed himself. He told me he thought it was his fault, and then everything with his dad… He doesn’t deserve this. I mean, no one does, but Jug’s been through so much already. It’s not fair.”

“Shit. And then I went and ditched him for Ms. Grundy. God, I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you’re not, Arch. Besides, that’s not gonna help us find him, and you know it.”

Archie sighed begrudgingly. “Remind me why we’re not barging in on Thornhill right now?”

“He might not even be there. Even if he is, Clifford won’t let us in, much less just take Jughead. We don’t want to get Jughead hurt even worse.”

Archie nodded. Even through the phone, Betty could sense his crestfallen expression. “It sucks, I know. Believe me, if I thought there was a better option…”

“Yeah. Thanks, Betty.”

XXX

By some combination of shuffling, cursing, and honest-to-god willpower, Jughead made it to the door. 

Which was unlocked.

Jughead had read far too many novels to think that meant he was free. At this point, he’d be less surprised if it was an elaborate trick of Clifford’s to bait him with freedom.

Well, he wasn’t going back to the chair, so onward it was.

As discreetly as one can manage while limping, Jughead shuffled along the hall with panic in his chest. His urgency increased as he went, as if glimpsing the freedom that was nearly within his grasp. Soon, he came upon a living area. There was a phone on the coffee table. He was so close; if only he could-

Footsteps.

Loud, marching, angry footsteps.

Dangerous footsteps.

Jughead lunged toward the phone, stealth forgotten. He dialed Betty’s number with shaking fingers, cursing breathlessly.

“God, please pick up, come on Betty, ple-”

“Hello?”

“Betty! He’s gonna-”

“Jughead? Oh my god, are you okay? Where-”

“Betty, listen. I got out, but he’s coming to get me and I can’t run. I’m at Thornhill, it’s Clifford Blossom.”

“I know, we’re gonna get you out, okay? We’re gonna save you, okay, just-”

Jughead clutched the phone, eyes widening as Clifford rounded the corner, advancing toward Jughead at a frightening pace. Jughead scrambled backward, still clinging to the phone, to Betty’s voice. 

“Betty, I don’t have time, I love you, okay? I’m sorry-”

“God, Jug, this isn’t your fault. We’re coming, okay? Just hold on a little longer. I love you, Jug, okay? I-”

“Betty-”

Jughead was interrupted by a vase being smashed on his forehead. He dropped to the ground, the phone falling from his lifeless grip.

“Jughead? Jug!”

XXX

“Archie! We need to go to Thornhill, now.”

“What? Wait, Betty, what happened? I thought you said-”

“Jughead tried to escape. He was able to call me and tell me he’s at Thornhill. But Clifford caught him and there was a crash and I think he’s hurt and we gotta-”

“Slow down, Betty. Remember what you said about how we might make it worse?”

“I know, but he… he…”

Archie had never heard Betty so upset, so flustered. He glanced at his watch.

“Look, it’s 3:30. If we go to Thornhill now, we’ll never make it back to the trailer in time, and that’ll definitely make it worse for Jug.” Archie could tell Betty was trying to calm down, mulling over his words. She sighed shakily.

“Okay, fine. But I have a really bad feeling about this.”

XXX

Everything hurt.

Jughead wasn’t fully awake yet, stuck in that half-world between unconsciousness and awareness. He didn’t open his eyes; they were far too heavy. 

Everything hurt.

One thing he /was/ aware of was the pain. It was everywhere, coursing through his abused body in fiery waves. The slightest twitch was agony. Jughead wanted to go back to sleep.

He could hear voices. Faint, tiny voices saying his name. “Jughead,” they said. “Please wake up.”

He wished he could tell them that he couldn’t, that his eyelids were too heavy and everything hurt too much and he was sorry.

Then icy cold water was thrown at him and Jughead was shocked into the land of the living. “Shit,” He gasped. He’d spasmed in surprise when he was hit with the frigid liquid, aggravating every sore part of his body. Shuddering, he looked up at Clifford with wide eyes. “What the fuck?”

Oops. He’d forgotten about the whole probably-shouldn’t-cuss-out-your-kidnapper thing.

Clifford just smirked, which didn’t make him feel any better. 

XXX (Betty POV of the last section)

It was 4:00; the Skype call came in right on time. 

Betty froze when the visual came in. Jughead was back in the chair, this time slumped over with visible bruises covering most of his body. Betty couldn’t find an unmutilated patch of skin on her boyfriend’s unconscious form.

Veronica put an arm around Betty’s shoulders; a quick glance revealed that her eyes were as wide as Betty’s. 

“There was a bit of a change in schedule today due to… unforeseen events. Mr. Jones thought he was clever and tried to escape. I had to teach him a lesson.”

“Jughead! Come on, please wake up,” Betty urged, eyes locked on her boyfriend’s prone figure. His eyes were moving rapidly beneath closed lids, but he wouldn’t wake. 

Betty’s attempts at waking him were interrupted by another action that was, in a sense, more effective. Of course, had she the choice, Betty wouldn’t have opted to throw ice cold water on Jughead to wake him. 

She evidently didn’t have the choice because Jughead was now wide-eyed and dripping wet.

“Shit.” Jughead was shaking and wincing. “What the fuck?”

A small smile tugged on Betty’s lips at the incredulous look on Jughead’s face.

“Anyway, we’d best get going. It seems, I’m afraid, that Mr. Jones has not learned his lesson about what happens when you try to escape. Unfortunately, we’ll have to skip today’s game to make sure Mr. Jones is clear on what will happen should he try to get out again.”

Betty shivered. Jughead looked injured as it was; this “punishment” would only make it worse.

Clifford held up a small blade and Jughead’s eyes darkened. “Recognize this, Mr. Jones?”

“How did you get that?”

Betty’s brow furrowed; what was Jughead talking about?

“Ah, so you do remember. I wasn’t sure you would; it’s been awhile since you last used it.”

Jughead glanced at the camera before quickly looking away. Betty looked to Archie, hoping he’d know what was going on, but he only shrugged in return. 

“Your friends look confused, Mr. Jones. Does this mean you never told them about your, shall we say, habits?”

Jughead chuckled darkly. “No. It was a long time ago.”

“A long time ago? From what I saw, some of those scars didn’t look too old.”

“Stop.”

Archie’s confusion was evident in his tone. “Jughead, what is he talking about? What scars?”

“Yes, Mr. Jones, what am I talking about?”

“Stop.”

“Am I talking about how you used this blade to cut yourself? How you felt so alone after your mother abandoned you, and-”

“I said stop.”

Betty gasped softly. “Jug, is it true?”

When Jughead looked at the camera, his gaze was guilty. “Yeah,” he muttered. Veronica squeezed Betty’s hand; both had teary eyes. “But it was only once or twice, I don’t… I don’t do it anymore.”

“Ah, but that’s not true, is it? You did it again, when your father got arrested. When your mother told you she didn’t want you. When Archie told you Betty never loved you.” Betty’s breath caught. She looked to Jughead, seeking proof that it wasn’t true, but he averted his eyes. 

Clifford laughed. “And you’re about to do it again.”

Jughead’s head snapped up. “What are you talking about?”

“Evidently, you didn’t learn anything when I punished you. So you’re going to do it; maybe that way, you’ll finally understand the consequences of your mistakes.”

“Okay, first of all, that wasn’t a mistake. I didn’t /accidentally/ try to escape. Second of all, you realize how fucked up you are? Are you /trying/ to sound like something from a Stephen King novel, or is it just-”

Clifford threw the blade at Jughead.

Clifford threw. the blade. at Jughead.

Jughead cut himself off with a yelp as the it nicked his forehead. “What the hell?”

“Take your pants off.”

“Jesus, you’re not very subtle.”

Archie snorted. Clifford growled and strode across the room, grabbing Jughead’s arm in a vise-like grip. He yanked the boy’s pants down, before gesturing toward Jug’s boxers.

“Can you act your age, or do I have to do everything for you?”

“Act my age? Are you- hey!”

Jughead’s face was bright red. Betty and the others averted their eyes, hoping their friend could retain some shred of modesty, but it couldn’t really be helped. 

Jughead’s upper thighs were littered with scars. They varied in length and depth, and Clifford’s words were confirmed.

“You know what to do, Mr. Jones. As we can see, you have a good amount of experience with cutting yourself.”

“No.”

“Mr. Jones, may I remind you that I know exactly where your friends are sitting at the moment? You know how many connections I have in this town.”

Jughead’s gaze was tormented. “How many?”

“Until you’ve learned.”

XXX

Jughead’s hand was shaky as he brought the blade to his exposed thigh.

Exposed. That’s what he was now. Exposed. Unprotected. Vulnerable.

He made a small cut and gasped slightly. He could feel Clifford’s gaze on him, could tell that the sick bastard was enjoying this. He made a few more incisions before looking up at Clifford with a question in his eyes.

“Deeper. You haven’t learned yet.”

Jughead didn’t want to fall back into this. He cut himself with reluctance, driving the blade into his skin guiltily. He didn’t want this. 

It felt good, and he hated himself for it.

He knew it was wrong, knew this was what Clifford wanted, but he’d forgotten how it felt to lift his heavy, aching soul with the release of crimson blood. 

Clifford laughed. “See, I told you.”

Jughead’s hands shook. He looked at the camera, then at Clifford, with wide, guilty eyes. “I can’t.”

“Then I guess I’ll be making a few calls.”

“No! Just…” Jughead swallowed hard and cut his thigh again. The bliss was gone, replaced by the sting and agitation. “Please.”

“Keep going or I’ll have your girlfriend killed.”

XXX

Jughead Jones had cracked.

He was crying grossly, snot and tears falling as he dug into his skin again and again. His thighs were a mess, both of them bloody and aching. 

And it was Betty’s fault.

She was holding herself together - she had to be strong, Jug didn’t need her crying - but she was cracking. She was frozen, a guilt-ridden statue watching as Jughead broke. 

“Jug, if you can hear me, I want you to know it’s okay. We don’t blame you, I don’t blame you. It’s not your fault, okay?”

Jughead looked at the camera with glassy eyes. His gaze was dull; it was frightening. 

“Jug, I know it hurts and I wish I could make it stop, but just… hold on a little bit longer, okay? We’re gonna get through this, and you’re gonna come home, and we’ll go to Pop’s, okay?” Betty laughed softly - when did she start crying? “We’re all here, okay? Me, Archie, Veronica, Kevin… We’ll get you out, okay? Just a little longer.”

Jughead nodded. He went back to mechanically slicing his thighs while Clifford looked on with sick satisfaction.

Betty couldn’t put a finger on it, but Jughead’s eyes looked empty. Unfeeling and detached.

It was terrifying.

XXX

Clifford didn’t let him stop.

Jughead wanted to stop, he wanted out, he wanted to go home and be with Betty, and have Pop’s, and pretend he wasn’t covered in self-inflicted scars.

Jughead was tired of hurting and he. wanted. out.

I guess you could say he got his wish; he passed out from blood loss a few minutes later.

XXX

When the video call ended, Betty collapsed. Veronica held her as she sobbed grossly, words failing as she cried. 

“We can’t keep doing this. At this rate, he’ll… he won’t make it much longer,” Kevin said. 

Veronica’s tone was one of exhaustion. “We can’t tell anyone, remember? We want to save Jughead, not get him killed.”

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovely readers!  
> So... this chapter kind of took my plan and threw it out the window, so hopefully it turned out okay! I think this is the longest chapter. A million sorries for taking an eternity and a half to update. Next one should be quicker (hopefully). The response I've gotten on this work has been entirely amazing and unexpected. Thank you so, so much for your kudos and kind reviews. It's definitely encouraged me to keep writing, and you've given me some good feedback as well. So, again: thank you, thank you, thank you!  
> Some reminders: unbeta'd, barely edited, I own nothing but the plot, and see tags for trigger warnings.  
> Anyway, you guys are the best, and all feedback is greatly appreciated! Cheers!  
> Sincerely, Me.


	4. We Never Learn (We Been Here Before)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Any of you ever played hangman?”
> 
> Chapter title from Sign of the Times by Harry Styles  
> I own nothing but the plot. Unbeta'd.

Archie hadn’t slept since Jughead had gone missing. The whole situation was driving him insane. Archie hardly ate. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Jughead writhing in pain and heard him screaming. 

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Clifford had them trapped, stuck in the torture and unable to reach out for help. 

XXX  
Archie had barely stepped out of the house before Betty was running toward him.

“Archie!” The expression on her face was one of something that had been missing since Jughead disappeared: hope. “Cheryl!”

“Cheryl?”

“We can’t go into Thornhill. But Cheryl lives there, she can find Jughead.”

Betty looked so hopeful; Archie couldn’t help but meet her hesitant smile with one of his own. “That could work. Technically we’re not allowed to tell anyone, though.”

“Yeah, but if we get Cheryl in on it, she could get him out, or call the police once she found him.”

Archie nodded. “I mean, it’s risky, but… if we can get Cheryl to help us, it might be worth a shot.”

XXX

“You want me to what?”

“Your dad has kidnapped Jughead and we know he’s somewhere at Thornhill. But we’re not allowed to tell anyone and we can’t just go in, so-”

“You’re insane. My dad didn’t… I mean, how could he…”

“I know it’s hard to believe, and I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but we really need your help. Jughead needs your help. I… I don’t think he has much time. Please, Cheryl.”

Cheryl looked visibly ruffled as she mulled it over. She was torn, it seemed, between helping them and ignoring the problem until it went away.

Kevin spoke up softly. “Cheryl, I know we’ve never really gotten along, but this is way beyond that. We’ve seen what’s been happening to Jughead, and… it’s bad. 

“He’s badly injured and I know you and him aren’t friends, but this isn’t about petty disagreements. He could die, Cheryl.” Veronica said, her hand on Betty’s shoulder. 

“Fine. What do I have to do?”

XXX

The plan was that, after school, Cheryl would go home and search her gigantic house as discreetly as possible. If she found him, she would text Betty and call 911. 

Between classes, Betty stopped to talk to Cheryl. “Hey, I just want you to know that this means a lot to me. But, I understand if you don’t want to do it, it’s dangerous, and…”

“Not to worry, Juliet. I’ll save your emo Romeo.” She paused. “Just… I don’t want you to think I’m some completely heartless bitch. Even if I don’t like you or your boyfriend, no one… no one deserves what’s happened to him.”

“Thank you, Cheryl. Thank you so much.”

XXX

“It’s almost 4, why hasn’t Cheryl texted yet?” Betty was pacing around the trailer. Archie, Veronica, and Kevin sat on the couch; their nerves were evident in their stiff positions.

“Give her some time, Betts, maybe-”

Betty’s phone dinged.

Betty’s eyes filled with tears as she read the message aloud. “I can’t find him. I’m sorry.”

Veronica stood abruptly. “Wait… what if Cheryl can follow Clifford to see where he goes. It’s almost 4, he’ll be going to wherever Jug is right about now.”

Betty typed quickly. “Is your dad there?”

“No.”

XXX

Cheryl tiptoed down the hall, meticulously checking each room. Down the hall, to the left, down the stairs. She focused on the mechanics of her mission because she had to.

Because if she focused on anything else, like the fact that her father was a sadistic madman, she might break.

One foot after the other. In and out. She could do this.

This was more than just courtesy, she knew. She had to find out the truth about her screwed up family.

Oh, and the fact that her father was torturing someone and it was /so/ not okay.

XXX

“I apologize that we went a bit off schedule yesterday. We’ll be continuing the games today.” Clifford announced casually.

They were in a different location, Betty realized. It looked like a barn, with barrels of something. Betty so wished she could text Cheryl, but didn’t for fear of Clifford noticing. So much depended on the success of their spy on the inside.

They couldn’t see Jughead.

Clifford sauntered forward to stand in front of the camera.

“Any of you ever played hangman?”

XXX

Betty’s stomach dropped. “Hangman?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Clifford nodded. “Of course, we had to modify it a bit. I took the liberty of setting up beforehand, so we’re ready to start. Get a piece of paper and a pencil.” Archie scrambled to grab some from the counter. Clifford nodded in approval and shifted the camera.

There was Jughead.

Hanging from a rafter in the barn.

Betty choked before realizing that he wasn’t dead, just limp. There were ropes tied from each of his hands and his neck. Jughead was sort of leaning on a chair; his full weight wasn’t held by the ropes. 

(A/N: his wrists are above his head, and they are tied as well. So it’s like a noose meets strappado; if the chair is kicked, he won’t immediately be strangled, but all his weight will be held up by his arms)

“What the hell?” Archie yelled, red in the face. He was outraged, unable to control the furious response to his friend’s precarious position.

“Language, Mr. Andrews. As long as you solve the puzzle - and it’s an easy one, if I do say so myself - Mr. Jones will come away unharmed.”

“Unharmed? Look at him!”

Clifford shrugged. “Semantics. Now, the puzzle is one word with eight letters. I do believe you know how this works,” Clifford said. “You may begin guessing. I would be… careful.”

Betty and the others looked at each other with wide eyes. “Any guesses?” Betty muttered.

“E? That’s pretty common.” Veronica guessed.

Betty shrugged. “We gotta start somewhere.” To Clifford, she said, “E.”

Clifford nodded. “One E. It’s the last letter.”

They guessed F, T, and O; all of which were, thankfully, correct. The page looked like this:  
F O _ _ _ T _ E

Then they guessed A. And Clifford kicked the chair from beneath Jughead. 

XXX

Betty screamed.

He jerked awake, entire body spasming as he hung from the ropes. He let out a muffled scream, and with a start, Betty realized why. The sudden weight on his arms, which were tied above his head, had dislocated his shoulders. Jughead’s shoulders were burning; everything hurt. He couldn’t go on like this much longer.

He wasn’t going to make it, and he knew it.

Everyone was wide eyed and gaping; except Clifford, of course, who gave them a look that screamed impatience. “Your next guess in three, two…”

“R?” Veronica looked petrified as she hastily answered. Clifford nodded solemnly.

“One R, right after the O.”

(The word was now F O R _ _ T _ E)

Jughead was gritting his teeth. Betty wanted so badly to text Cheryl. She was right there, she could get help. But Jughead’s life was hanging by a thread and Clifford was holding the scissors; Betty couldn’t take the risk. She would have to wait and hope that Jug could last long enough for help to arrive.

Kevin quietly intoned the question on all of their minds: “What do you think the word is?”

“It’s gotta be something related, maybe a name or a place. I don’t think it would just be a random word.” Betty offered.

“Your guess in three, two...”

Scrambling for an answer, Betty knew she had to guess something, so she tried something common. “Is there an L?”

Clifford sighed dramatically. “No L’s, Ms. Cooper.” With a quick slash, Jughead was now dangling by one arm and his neck. The shift alone was enough to make it harder to breathe; Jughead tilted his head to the side to loosen the noose a bit. It didn’t do much, but it helped to slightly ease the panicky nausea he felt at the thought of death by strangulation.

Clifford had the nerve to look bored. “Next.”

Archie shrugged helplessly. “H?”

Clifford looked genuinely surprised; Betty took it as a good sign. “One H, between the T and the E.”

(F O R _ _ T H E)

Archie smiled, and Betty eyed him, confused. “Forsythe. Jughead’s name is Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third. That has to be it.”

Betty was hesitant to get her hopes up. “How would Clifford know that?”

Archie shrugged. “What else could it be?” To Clifford, he answered, “S”

It was the best guess they had.

Everyone held their breath. Clifford said, “One S. After the R.”

(F O R S _ T H E)

Jughead weakly smiled at the camera; he’d figured it out, as well. “If you don’t get this, Andrews…” He rasped. Archie grinned.

“The last letter is Y. The word is Forsythe.”

Clifford nodded. “That is correct. However, I expressly told Mr. Jones what would happen should he try to help you. He was instructed to remain silent, and he couldn’t even do that. He must be punished.”

Various sounds of protests were heard as Clifford picked up the blade once again. Jughead looked terrified, his earlier look of mischief replaced by one of dread. He leaned backwards; it did nothing to help his plight, but his sense of logic had been replaced by a pure need to get away get away get away and he didn’t want to die, not today, not like this, and he needed to get. away. 

Betty’s heart clenched as she watched Jughead’s fruitless struggles. Her friend, her lover, her everything was terrified and in danger of losing his life and Betty. Would. Not. Have. It. 

“No! Please, he wasn’t trying to help, we already knew the answer, please!” 

Betty’s pleas were ignored, as were Jughead’s and the rest of the group’s. After everything, Jughead’s life would be taken by the swift cut of a blade, a jerk of a noose, and the breath from his lungs would be gone forever. 

Betty whipped out her phone - fuck Clifford’s threats, Jughead was about to die - and texted Cheryl “BARN HURRY”

Clifford was at Jughead’s side. He traced his cheekbone with the knife, drawing thin lines of blood and prompting Jughead’s groans. 

Jughead was muttering “no” and “please” over and over again; the look of plain fear in his eyes broke Betty’s heart. Cheryl hadn’t responded; they were too late.

“It’s okay, Jug. We’re right here. Don’t… Don’t be scared.”

Archie met Betty’s eyes, and his stomach dropped as he realized what she meant. Jughead was about to die, and somehow Betty was calm enough to try and comfort him. 

They were out of time. Even if help was called, Jughead would be dead before they got there. They were too late, they’d failed him, and Archie was about to lose his best friend.

It wasn’t fair.

“I love you, Jughead Jones.” Betty whispered. She was crying openly now. Jughead’s frightened gaze snapped to the camera.

His voice cracked as he whispered, “I love you, Betty Cooper.”

With one quick slash, Clifford cut the rope on Jughead’s wrist.

XXX

Betty’s scream was loud enough that surely all of Riverdale heard it. If the volume wasn’t enough, the pure anguish in her wails would surely have alerted the entire town.

Betty screamed, she screamed for Jughead, for the pain he’d endured, she screamed for everything they wouldn’t get to do, for all the morning kisses and lunch dates they wouldn’t have. 

Betty Cooper screamed for the boy she loved, the boy who was hanging from a noose and rapidly losing air.

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> So, I understand if you want to throw something at me for taking so long to update. I'm so, so sorry about how long this is taking. I'm thinking about 6 chapters for this, we'll see. This is my longest work I've ever written, over 40 pages in my document format. Thank you thank you thank you to those of you who've stuck with me through all my delays! All of your responses have been absolutely lovely. Comments and kudos are very appreciated, as always. Feedback, constructive criticism, and prompts are welcome! Lots of love to all of you x


	5. Why are we always stuck and running from (The bullets?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where we find out if the author has the guts to kill Jughead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the author is weak.

Cheryl was running. Betty’s cryptic text - “BARN HURRY” - had left her with a sick, uneasy feeling in her stomach. Something was very wrong, and something in her knew she had to hurry.

Some other sense told her that it was a matter of life or death. Cheryl didn’t have to wonder about who’s life was on the line.

She’d never mingled much with Jughead Jones. He was an outsider, a loner; she was a leader. That didn’t mean she was going to leave him to die at the hands of her father.

Especially not at the hands of her father.

Cheryl sprinted to the barn; there was a shovel leaning against the wall. She grabbed it without thinking and threw open the doors.

Jughead Jones was swinging from a noose. Her father was holding a blade to his neck.

“Jughead?” The boy in question was jerking and struggling, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. His gaze snapped to Cheryl at the sound of her voice, and Cheryl swore she’d never seen such pure, agonized terror in someone’s eyes.

Clifford Blossom turned his stare toward his daughter. The latter straightened and clenched her shaking fists. “Cheryl, you need to leave.”

“Get away from him.”

“Cheryl - “

“I said, get away from him. Now.”

“Let’s be reasonable, dear, don’t -”

Cheryl surged forward with a yell, bringing the shovel down on her father’s head. She hit him again and he slumped to the ground. It was the kind of cartoon-like violence that Jughead surely normally would have smirked at. Ignoring the wetness on her cheeks, she quickly grabbed the blade from her father’s lax grip and turned back to Jughead.

Jughead was blue in the face and way too still.

“No no no no no.” With a slash to the noose, she supported his weight, lowering him to the ground with gentleness that most wouldn’t expect from the queen bee of Riverdale High. She put an ear to his chest; the weak flutter was at the same time reassuring and terrifying.

“Betty, somebody, can you hear me?” 

XXX

Betty’s head snapped up. “Cheryl?”

“I need you to call 911, right now. He’s still breathing. But barely.”

Betty sobbed brokenly, fumbling for her phone. A warm hand closed over hers, taking the device from her clammy grip.

Kevin. “I got it.” He met her gaze with one of strength, and Betty nodded. Thank god for Kevin and his ability to not panic.

“Tell them to hurry,” Cheryl said urgently. Through blurry vision, Betty watched as Cheryl tapped Jughead’s cheek. No response.

XXX

“We need to get him to the hospital.”

“He’s not breathing.”

“Start chest compressions.”

“We’re losing him.”

XXX

Cheryl sits numbly as the swarm of paramedics surrounded Jughead’s lifeless form. They work quickly, everything moving at a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it pace and Cheryl is lost in the frenzy.

Blink.

They’re moving him into the ambulance. Jughead is attached to a bunch of wires and machines.

Blink. 

One of the machines lets out a shrill whine that pierces the air.

(“We’re losing him.”)

Blink.

One of the paramedics pounds on Jughead’s chest. The teen shows no reaction, a lifeless, bloody doll. //too much blood too much blood too much blood//

Blink.

“Miss, are you hurt?”

Blink.

The ear-splitting wail stops. “Can I get you anything? Your friend’s going to be okay.”

Cheryl doesn’t correct him. “I…”

Blink.

“Miss, why don’t you come with me and you can tell me what happened.”

Cheryl nods and stiffly rises. The officer’s eyes hold concern, and Cheryl feels a hand on her back in what is supposed to be a comforting gesture. Cheryl sees Jughead one last time as they pass the ambulance. 

The paramedic closes the door, but not before Cheryl sees the mangled, swollen, bloody mess that is Jughead’s ankles.

If Cheryl has to stop for a moment to control the vomit that threatens to make an appearance, that is between her and the officer.

XXX

By the time Jughead is stable, the hospital waiting room looks more like a campsite. Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Kevin are camped out in the uncomfortable chairs. They’d been there for hours.

Eventually, they see Cheryl. She had been treated for shock, and her legs shake slightly as she enters the waiting room. For a moment, she looks lost; then Betty has wrapped her in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “If you hadn’t been there…”

Cheryl simply nodded. 

“Family of Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third?”

The doctor started at the sharp, questioning gazes suddenly trained on him. “Is he okay?”

“Mr. Jones will live. He is severely injured - we lost him on the table. He is stable now, though. But you should know that the damage was extensive and the recovery process will be long and difficult. Mr. Jones suffered severe malnourishment, multiple lacerations on his thighs, and a fractured ankle. From what I know of the circumstances surrounding these injuries, Mr. Jones will also have a good amount of psychological trauma, though we won’t know how that will present itself until he wakes up.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

(that was Fred)

“Can we see him?”

(that was Betty)

“Once he is settled in the ICU, Mr. Jones can have a maximum of two visitors at a time. Be aware, though, that he is on a ventilator and a feeding tube, and his appearance may be a bit unsettling. I assure you, though, that he will make a full recovery.”

XXX

“Unsettling” was one way to put it.

When Betty walked in, she could have sworn that the figure on the hospital bed was a ghost. That pale, bruised, skeletal figure couldn’t be her boyfriend.

Despite witnessing the past few days of torture, Betty struggled to believe that Jughead could look so emaciated, so injured, so broken. 

She turned and buried her face in Archie’s chest, and pride be damned, he was crying with her.

XXX

Going with the flow was never Jughead’s forte. He woke up four days later - three days sooner than expected - and did so kicking and screaming.

Jughead woke up in a panic, jolting Betty and Archie from fitful sleep. His eyes were wide and panicked, and he was pulling on the IV before Betty could register what was happening. Archie grabbed his wrist to keep him from hurting himself, and Jughead f r e a k e d o u t .

He twisted away, horrible gasping sounds escaping his lips. Jughead pushed himself as far away from Archie as possible, nearly falling off the bed before several nurses appeared. 

“Jughead!” Betty cried, and his head whipped around. His flighty gaze settled on her - she could make out the glisten of unshed tears. She continued softly, slowly, as if talking to a frightened animal. “You’re safe here. You’re at the hospital. Don’t touch the IV, please, you’ll hurt yourself. We… we’re trying to help. You’re safe now.”

Jughead eyed her warily - it was as if he was an entirely different person, and she a foreign stranger. “Do you know who I am?”

Jughead considered it, his posture still resembling a coiled spring. She could sense him mulling it over in his head; his eyes moved back and forth with his thoughts. Jughead’s lips started moving, and at first no sound came out. 

He kept at it, moving his mouth with desperation, struggling to form the word. Then -

It was weak. It was raspy. It was so quiet she thought she’d imagined it. But it was real.

“B-Be-etty.”

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so.  
> \- this is short, but hopefully the action makes up for it  
> \- this is not the end. I'm struggling to find the time and ability to continue this, but I have a lot more in store for Jughead and the gang. one more chapter at the very least.  
> \- as y'all know, I can't update regularly to save my life. "on schedule" isn't in my vocabulary. thank you for sticking with this!  
> \- kudos and comments give me life. I love reading all your feedback and suggestions. prompts are welcome!  
> \- on a personal note, thank you for all your kind words. I'm still not in a great place mentally, but I'm working on it. your positivity has really helped.  
> \- hope you enjoyed!


	6. just stop your crying (have the time of your life)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where the author gives you a really short depressing chapter because she feels really bad about not updating and being a useless human being in general

XXX

It was slow moving from there.

Jughead slept a lot - his body needed it. He was on a feeding tube, and after a week he still looked skeletal. The bruises around his neck had begun to fade, and his foot was in a cast.

Besides when he’d said Betty’s name, right after he first woke up, Jughead hadn’t said a word. 

Sure, he communicated. Hand gestures. Eye rolling. But he didn’t speak. 

Doctors said it was selective mutism. With the trauma Jughead had experienced, it wouldn’t be surprising if he was silent for a long time.

And then there were the nightmares. Or,

(memories)

Every night, like clockwork, Jughead started screaming himself hoarse. It scared the shit out of Betty when she’d first been there to witness it; Jughead was screaming bloody murder. Raw, painful, anguished screams. Blood-curdling.

Then he woke up. Panting hard, tears streaming down his face. Betty had learned a few things about Jughead in these moments following a nightmare. 

First, he didn’t like to be touched.

(( / Betty reached out to grab his hand, ground him, and Jughead flinched away. He shook his head furiously, wrapping his arms around himself protectively. / ))

Second, it took him a few minutes to remember where he was.

(( / Jughead’s eyes ricocheted around the room, looking for a way out. He scrambled to get out of bed, grimacing at the searing pain as he pushed himself up. Betty stood abruptly, panicked. “Jughead! It’s Betty, it’s me, you’re safe. You’re at the hospital. You’re not there anymore, you’re safe. I’m right here. I need you to stop moving, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” She repeated the mantra until it sunk in and Jughead sagged back into the pillow. / ))

And third, he was getting worse.

(( / Jughead was sobbing grossly, spluttering, and Betty was hopeless. Both of them had dark eyebags at this point; they hadn’t slept a full night in weeks. Jughead’s breathing was worryingly strained and, on impulse, he grabbed her hand. Betty looked up, surprised at the contact, before squeezing back. Jughead fell asleep with tear stains on his cheeks, still clutching Betty’s hand. / ))

Betty could hear FP out in the hall. He was arguing with someone - a doctor, it sounded like. “You’re the doctor, you’re supposed to know! Why can’t he talk?”

The doctor’s tone was a practiced calm. “Mr. Jones, I’m not so sure that he physically can’t. It’s likely a psychological effect of the trauma known as selective mutism. Jughead feels that he needs to protect himself any way that he can, and for now, that means not talking. He needs time.”

FP sighed. “I just… I don’t know what to do. I want my boy back.”

XXX

It had been two weeks since Jughead got to the hospital. He was getting better, little by little. He stayed awake longer, he was more alert. 

He still wouldn’t talk.

The doctors said he was making great progress.

Betty found it hard to agree. Sure, Jughead was improving, but he was still so… different. Betty wasn’t sure things would ever be the same. 

He flinched. A lot. And he was so eerily silent, so meek and thin…. All of it was unnerving. But if Betty Cooper was one thing, she was stubborn.

Every day after school she visited him. She brought food, games, movies… The appearance of his laptop and earbuds had even garnered a smile. They just hung out, pretending everything was fine, and for the most part it worked.

Jughead started smiling more. His face lit up every time Betty came, and she could tell he did his best to get into whatever activity Betty had planned.

But Betty wasn’t stupid. She saw the way his smile fell when he thought she wasn’t looking. She saw the way his hands shook and his eyes went glassy as he got caught in his memories. Jughead’s demons were still very much alive, but maybe Betty could help keep them away.

She knew who to call.

XXX

“Hello? Jughead?”

“Sorry, no, uh, this is Betty. His girlfriend. Is this Jellybean?”

“It’s JB. Where’s Jughead?” 

Betty’s stomach dropped. “No one told you?”

“What happened? Put him on the phone.”

“JB, Jug was kidnapped. He was gone for a week, and he was really hurt. We got him back though, and he’s in the hospital now, but he’s… He won’t talk.”

“God. Why didn’t you call me?”

“FP made me wait until we knew Jug would make it.”

JB fell silent.

“I’m on my way.”

XXX

“Hey Jug, you have a visitor,” Betty said, stepping into Jug’s room. Her smile was broad. “Someone other than me.”

Jughead gave her that half-smile that meant “I don’t want to be rude but I don’t have the energy right now”

JB stepped into the room. 

Jughead’s face lit up like a christmas tree.

“You’re a piece of shit, you know that? You decide to get kidnapped and you don’t even tell me.”

Betty winces, wants to tell her to be more gentle, but Jughead just smiles wider. He beckons her closer.

Jughead wraps JB in the biggest, tightest hug. He meets Betty’s eyes over JB’s shoulder, a grateful look. Betty nods, grinning, before leaving them alone.

“How’re you doing, Jug? Really.” JB looks him in the eye. 

Jughead lowers his gaze and shrugs. 

“Talk to me, Juggie. Please?”

Jughead wanted to. He wanted to so, so badly, but…. Something in him couldn’t. He opened his mouth to speak, and his chest got tight and his mind kept going through the feel of the noose and the chair getting kicked from under him and falling and hanging there and not being able to breathe and-

“Breathe, Jughead. Come on, breathe for me. In and out.”

(( when had he stopped breathing? ))

XXX

 

When Betty came back in, JB was sitting next to Jughead on the bed. They were watching TV, Jug’s arm around JB’s shoulder. 

It was the most affectionate Betty had seen him act since…

“Hey Betty. We’re watching Friends.”

“Nice.”

JB nudged Jughead. He smiled at Betty with a halfhearted wave.

“Hey, Jug. How’re you doing?”

A thumbs-up.

Betty shifted. 

“Jug, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Clifford Blossom is dead. He hanged himself in his cell last night at the police station.”

Jughead thought he should feel relieved. Like a weight had been lifted; he had nothing to be afraid of anymore. 

Jughead leaned over the side of the bed and vomited.

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- super short, we're almost at the end. jug still has a long way to go in his recovery, so we'll see how far I can go into that.  
> \- I'm really sorry for not updating. I've been in a really bad place mentally; honestly, I still am. I will be finishing this story, my next update will hopefully be soon because summer  
> \- your response means so much to me. comments and kudos are insanely motivating. I love to hear your feedback, including ideas for the next chapter, just yelling at me, or prompts :D love you guys x


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